Photo-Graphic
by Miss Fiction95
Summary: Steve takes up a hobby in photography. Tony certainly isn't complaining.


Underestimating Steve was perhaps the worst mistake Tony ever made.

He was the human embodiment of a lie. He was falsehood him human form. Not in anything he said, of course, because Steve was honest to a fault. But he could look at you with the sweetest smile on his lips, or a small grin that begged to be kissed, while his eyes could scream _take me to the bedroom or you're going to regret it_ in the exact same moment. Maybe it was the 'American Darling' image he had spent so long purposefully cultivating to sell those war bonds back in the day, but after knowing the blond man for as long as he had, Tony decided that this image could not possibly have been more wrong. People truly underestimated the kind of depravity that Steve was capable of. Really, while the image of Captain America suited him to a tee, there was definitely more to him than sugar and apple pie.

The effect was a disorienting, dizzying sense of love (or lust?) that only sometimes interfered with the work Tony always seemed to have piling up. Not that he necessarily had a problem with neglecting work in favour of such distractions. It wouldn't be the first time.

And anyways, who was Tony to complain? It had taken him and Steve _far_ too many months to sort out their sexual tension and _finally thank god_ get to the steamy bits so he would be damned if he wasn't going to enjoy every minute of it while they were still in the honeymoon phase. The undeniable fact of the matter was why _wouldn't_ he appreciate Steve's apparent aptitude for concealing the fact that he was secretly a _cock tease bastard?_

It wasn't necessarily a problem, after all.

That is, until it was.

And it only started being a problem when Steve got his first camera. It was an old Polaroid contraption that spat out the picture a few minutes after taking it. Tony had teased him and called it primitive, had equated it to using sticks to draw a little sketch in the dirt, but Steve had been ecstatic with his little device. He took pictures of anything and everything.

In fact over time the refrigerator in the communal kitchen of the Stark tower was increasingly covered in little square pictures. Candid snapshots of the team in action (complete with little fuzz marks when someone moved at the wrong moment), the city skyline at various times of day, and some of the dogs from the park Steve liked to run in at the ass crack of dawn. A disproportionate number of pictures seemed to be of Tony himself, actually. Shots of him looking tired, of him angrily blocking the camera lens with a threatening look on his face some mornings, or of him sitting asleep in some awkward position in his lab with whatever he'd been doing still in his hands. But those pictures never made it to the fridge. _Those_ pictures seemed to stay hidden in Steve's nightstand or stuck to the wall like a child's art project on Steve's side of the bed.

Tony found the whole habit endearing. It certainly wasn't the pictures themselves that were really the problem. It was just the fact that after a while Tony began to notice that there was _another_ kind of picture in particular that Steve liked to take. Another kind that didn't seem to make it to the fridge door. Ones that featured Steve... and little else.

And the best part of _that_ was that he insisted that they were art. He called them tasteful nudes and claimed that there was no ulterior motives behind their existence, despite the fact that he seemed to leave them wherever he thought Tony might come across them. Steve had called them that when Tony confronted him the first time he'd found a picture of Steve's bare hips, thumb tucked in to the waistband of the low slung jeans and pushing _down,_ under his pillow one night. While he was well-sculpted, Tony wasn't sure if _art_ was necessarily the name he'd give them.

"What the hell am I looking at?" Tony had asked, flapping the little square in Steve's direction. He had found the blonde in the midst of a routine, doing crunches in the gym. Most likely a wind down from a more intense workout. It took everything in him to focus and keep his eyes away from Steve's body as it curled with obvious power. Steve glanced at the sheet on an upswing and laughed heartily on the down.

" _Those_ are my hip bones," He grinned, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. "You would think you'd recognize them by now, with all the time you spend down there. Honestly."

Tony gaped at him, "Aren't you supposed to be the prude in this relationship?!"

Steve just laughed again.

Yeah, no. Apparently not. Those sorts of little snapshots were the ones that Steve hid in places he knew Tony would find them, and they only seemed to increase in volume over time. Sometimes they were under his pillow at night, and he'd find them when he finally dragged himself up the stairs and to their bed. Steve was usually already asleep, somehow still looking cheeky despite his unconscious state. Sometimes they'd be somewhere tucked somewhere more risque, like rolled up in the morning newspaper. In fact there had been one morning that Steve had handed him the roll and casually moved in to the kitchen to pour a glass of juice. Unsuspecting, Tony had choked on his coffee and then had to deflect four confused stares (and one knowing one) that morning when he found Steve's cock stuck just below the headline. All the while Steve's sweet, kissable lips would be smiling at him as though nothing were amiss, but his blue eyes would shine with mischief. To be fair, Tony should have known to be suspicious when Steve brought the paper up after his run.

They didn't even get the paper.

o O o

At first it was like a game. A dirty and unexpected game, sure, but it was fun. For Steve, at least. Though it was definitely not as though Tony had a problem with the principle of it. Steve would plant a dirty picture somewhere, Tony would find it, and then Tony would find Steve. Steve would just smile and feign a valiant attempt at ignorance for a while, but his tune always changed quickly when Tony got his hands _all over him_.

"You're just lucky I was the first one in the elevator this morning," Tony murmured against the blonds mouth. Steve hummed but said nothing, aiming for another kiss while pushing Tony's hand down his torso and into his pants with his own. "I mean it. Someone else would have gotten _quite_ an eyeful when the doors closed, and I'm not sure everyone appreciates your art as much as I do."

Tony's other hand still clutched the photos in question tightly. They were a series of shots stuck at eye level when the doors shut. They showed a progressive series of Steve following his hand trailing down his body with the camera, not unlike he was having Tony do to him now, in a warmly lit room that looked very much like their shared bedroom.

"Nonsense," Steve gasped with a slow grin, as Tony's teeth grazed his collar bone. "I am an _excellent_ photographer."

o O o

However, the game got less fun as time went on, particularly when Tony couldn't play. It was torture when he received a series of snapshots and could not engage in the ' _find Steve_ ' part. He assumed Steve was having as much fun as ever, considering the volume of pictures he received throughout the day, in various states of undress.

It was not uncommon for them to experience pseudo booms and busts in terms of the work there was to do. He and Steve could sometimes go for days before they would be able to see each other again. Sometimes it was no less than a week at a time before their schedules matched up again. Eventually Tony stopped finding Polaroids around the tower, because Steve had not been to the tower long enough to plant one. Since he himself had been spending a great deal of time away anyways, it was unlikely that he could have been the one to find them and Steve knew better that to risk it with their nosey roommates. But that wasn't to say Steve stopped sending pictures.

Plain envelopes would be brought in with the daily mail most mornings and left on Tony's desk. They would be addressed with scrawling, terrible handwriting that was evident of haste. The stamps were rarely ever inside the little box outline, usually tacked on crooked somewhere close, but still always off the mark. Needless to say, he had been suspicious the first time he had received the little envelope like that. It seemed sketchy, to say the least. But still, he opened it... and was shocked to find pictures tucked inwards against each other, so they wouldn't show through the white envelope paper.

The first set had been Steve staring in to the camera with those bright blue eyes, teeth pressing down just slightly on a plush lower lip in an expression that begged for attention. A test shot, still demure and teasing but ultimately safe if they were discovered. Soon even these had become common practise and their scandalous nature began to increase with each successful delivery.

Today the snapshots were particularly good. Another two pictures, faced inwards inside the envelope. One featuring Steve's lower half, fly unzipped and drawn open to draw the eye towards bright red lace and silk that lay tucked between the pale blue borders. The second showed Steve's large hand slipping underneath the fabric, with barely a glimpse of his cock beneath but still enough visible skin to be utterly tantalizing. Still enough to make Tony wish he could be home. Still _way_ more than enough to make Tony wish that Steve would be there when he got back.

He grabbed his phone with a trembling hand and sent a text out to the blond. _Call me now._

Moments later the phone rang with Steve's ID.

"You got my pictures?" Steve said cheerfully, without waiting for a greeting. Tony could hear a buzz of activity in the background, but Steve sounded relaxed so he assumed that they were on a break. Tony, however, had not considered the fact that people would be joining him in his office shortly. He cursed when someone knocked on his office door and shouted for them to come in.

Steve sounded all-too mischievous on the line. Tony could practically feel the smirk against his ear when he murmured "You know, I'm still wearing them," softly into the receiver without waiting for a response. Tony huffed a breath back to cover the moan that hummed in his throat as an older gentleman in an expensive suit sat in the chair across from the desk. He caught sight of Pepper shutting the door behind them. He tried to gesture for her to come in, but she either missed the motion or purposefully left him hanging. He groaned in frustration, throwing himself back in the swivelling chair.

"Where are you right now?" he demanded. The old man seemed startled by his aggressive tone, but said nothing when Tony held up a 1-minute finger and turned his seat again this time towards the wide window.

Steve didn't answer right away. He could hear Steve's voice distantly, as though he had covered the mouthpiece, but Tony drummed his finger impatiently against the arm of his chair. "I swear, Steve if you don't–"

"Relax. I'm just picking up lunch."

Tony snorted.

"What are you doing right now?" Steve asked. "Are you in a meeting?"

"Yes," Tony snapped shortly. He gave a sparing glance to the senior partner, who was watching him with quiet interest behind thick coke-bottle glasses.

"Can you get out of it?"

Tony was quiet. Was this really Steve? Steve 'Married-To-His-Work' Rogers was asking him to skip out on his obligations? He supposed he really shouldn't be surprised anymore. This was the same devious son of a bitch sending him dirty photos at all hours of the day, after all, nothing should surprising after that point. He hummed affirmatively, sliding his gaze towards the roof.

"Good. Meet me outside in ten," Steve said, grin practically audible, and without another word the line clicked off.

In a matter of seconds Tony had shoved the pictures in to his pockets and gotten from his chair. In a matter of minutes he had convinced Pepper to cover for him and was halfway down the elevator. He assumed the senior partner would be angry with him since he had left without so much as shaking his hand and offering to reschedule, but he was beyond caring. It had been days since he'd found a moment to be with Steve. Days of pictures and phone calls, and those could only last a man so long before he craved some real contact.

When he got outside he found Steve slouched against the glass pane of the door, gripping a plain brown bag under his crossed arms. The smile that curved his lips when he saw Tony probably should have been illegal. Tony felt naked under that heated stare.

"Will you be in trouble?" Steve asked him, nodding his head in gesture for Tony to follow. They walked in stride together down the block.

"I don't really care," Tony shrugged. "Where did you get them?"

"Oh, some little sandwich place on 14th..." Steve began. Tony punched his arm lightly without breaking stride, though he was almost jogging to keep up with the blonds long gait. Steve seemed unhurried, as though they were just about to take a leisurely stroll, as though there weren't bright red panties underneath his blue jeans. Steve squinted against the noon-time sun as he surveyed their location but said no more as his free hand sought out Tony's and pulled it in to his pocket. Presumably so he could hold it without being noticed. A warm feeling spread in his chest, but Tony refused to be charmed.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," he snapped. His patience was wearing thin, and he could feel the crumpled photographs through the inside of his own coat pocket.

"I do know it," replied Steve smoothly with a little wink, but he said no more. The rest of their walk was utterly silent, though not uncomfortable save for the vague tightness in Tony's trousers.

o O o

They reached the tower in record time with the shorter leading the way. However despite Tony's obvious rush to get to their room Steve insisted on pausing to say hello and exchange small chatter with everyone who crossed their path. He greeted Natasha pleasantly and asked about her day. He stopped Bruce even though he was clearly hurrying by. That was, until Tony caught his lover by the back of his neck mid-sentence and drew him in for a soft kiss. Bruce had cleared his throat and quietly walked away.

Tony paid him no mind for the moment and bit hard at Steve's lush lips, coaxing his tongue into his mouth before pulling away and making a beeline for the elevator. At last Steve was fast on his heels. Evidently, two could play at the teasing game.

Once the door closed between them and the rest of the tower, headed straight for the floor they shared, Tony made the request that JARVIS temporarily cease all camera feeds in the lift and on his floor. It wasn't as though they hadn't experimented in film before, but he wasn't sure he was willing to give the security guards quite that good a show, especially knowing what Steve was wearing underneath that thin denim layer.

Steve said nothing as he made the request but he heard him chuckle under his breath. Tension hummed between the two of them but neither acknowledged it.

"Oh," Steve hummed suddenly, reaching into his coat pocket, the one that hadn't contained their clasped hands on the street. He passed another small Polaroid to Tony nonchalantly before folding his hands behind his back and smiling with another devious wink. For Tony's part he was tempted not to even look, knowing that the picture was just another effort at teasing him. Though unsurprisingly that resolution didn't last longer than a few seconds.

The image was surprisingly well-lit and not at all washed out, as though the flash module had been turned off. Steve had strategically placed himself so that natural sunlight illuminated his already sun-kissed skin. His blue eyes stared intensely into the camera, held at a long arms length, the other hand dipping _just_ out of frame. Tony's imagination helpfully supplied the rest of the image, picturing a big hand likely encircling a hard, weeping cock inside silky red panties. Goose-flesh cascaded along his arms and his hands shook slightly as his grip on the photograph tightened. He tucked it in to his pocket with the other ones and said nothing, lest he validate the self-satisfied smirk on Steve's face.

"You _do_ know your phone has a camera, right?" Tony asked eventually, as Steve opened the door to their bedroom and let him pass first into the space. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it over a nearby chair. Steve followed behind him and hung it in the closet with his own. "You could just send me your dirty little pictures that way. Then we don't have to worry about anyone else getting an eye full. Or, you know, postage."

"That takes all the fun out of it," Steve replied with a snort. Tony could hear the smirk in his voice. So this _was_ a game for him. _Bastard._

When Steve stepped back out of the closet he was greeted with the sight of Tony shirtless and already lying in the middle of their bed, one hand in the front of his pants and moving slowly. Steve leaned against the frame of the door and smiled. "Oh. But what about lunch?" he asked, thumbing towards the bag he'd left on the little table by their door.

The pout on Tony's face was instantaneous; he sat up to protest and prepared to made a case against Steve's incessant teasing. But before Tony had a chance to actually voice any complaint, Steve was already undressing. He lifted his shirt and tossed it on the floor before kneeling in front of the brunet on the duvet.

Tony was on him in a matter of seconds, dragging his hands all over the blonds warm skin and sliding his hands into the back of Steve's jeans. He mouthed at his partner's throat as his fingers brushed against soft silk. Steve moaned softly and tangled his fingers in the short hairs at the back of Tony's head, leaning in to his hands for better access.

"You're just as eager as I am," Tony chuckled, canting his hips against Steve's, stirring friction between their clothed erections. Steve smiled into an open-mouthed kiss but wouldn't respond as another quiet groan bubbled out. "I bet you were just waiting for me to get them, weren't you, sweetheart? How long did you wait by the phone after you sent in those pictures?" He relentlessly palmed Steve's hard cock through his jeans. "How long have you been like this?"

Steve's grip on his hair tightened, his other hand rising to hold the back of his neck firmly as he rolled his hips insistently. "That's enough, _please._ Enough talking," he murmured in to Tony's mouth, "didn't you want to take a closer look?"

His resolve flickered visibly for a moment. He certainly did want to get those pants off and get a good look at the panties, but if he gave in so easily then Steve would consider himself the winner of today's little game.

Still, the soft keening noise that Steve made was a very convincing argument.

Despite his smaller size, Tony caught Steve's scrabbling hands and drew them together above his head. If he had wanted to, Tony had no doubt that Captain America could have escaped his hold and rolled them over so he was in charge. However he made no move to.

He seemed content to kiss at any part of Tony that leaned too close, content to helplessly roll his hips in hopes that Tony might dip down into reach again, content to let Tony direct and lead him without putting up a fight. Despite all of the bravado he had shown, the next step was definitely getting Steve out of those pants. With the promise of red silk below there was no way he could delay himself the gratification, even if he wanted to give Steve a taste of his own medicine. That proved to be a simpler task than initially anticipated, lacking in both banter or snide comments. He was warm and pliant and utterly complacent, staring up at Tony with those brilliantly adoring eyes that made Tony's chest feel tight. It really had been too long since they'd had time for a good romp. He couldn't help the flood of amorous words that fell from his lips and into Steve's pulse.

Once the jeans were gone and he was without his trousers for cover Steve's shy blush quickly coloured his cheeks. He was not the most experienced person, but he was growing more comfortable with Tony as their time together went on. To his credit, Tony was very good about ensuring they were both having a good time and while he felt a little ridiculous lying there in nothing but women's underwear, the warm look in Tony's half lidded gaze as the smaller man drank him in made him want to push his embarrassment down for his sake. So he did his best to focus on Tony and the feelings between them rather than the hotness of his face.

The red fabric stretched around the barely concealed erection, which the brunet adjusted so it lay flat against Steve's toned stomach. Without removing the fabric, Tony then slowly ran the palm of his hand along the obvious bulge so the silk slid effortlessly against his skin. Steve's hips jerked up and thrust in to the pressure involuntarily. The muscles in his arms contracted powerfully against Tony's hold, but still remained calculated enough to stay in his grip. The moan that bubbled out of Steve's clenched teeth at the sensation only encouraged Tony until he was essentially jerking off the blond through the shiny material.

A wet spot slowly formed against the head of Steve's cock, weeping with pre-cum, which Tony couldn't help but lean down to press his tongue against, panting his hot breath in his wake. As soon as he removed his hands from keeping Steve's flat against their mattress the blonds hands surged forward to grip tightly at Tony's biceps.

"Tell me how good it feels?" murmured Tony.

Steve complied with a slurring mess of syllables, "S'good, sssso so good." Tony just chuckled and sought out the lube they kept in the nightstand table.

"Just good?" he asked, lifting the hem of the garment and pressing his tongue flat against the head, exhaling hard. Steve doesn't try to speak again but nods emphatically, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth hung open with eyebrows scrunched tight. "Hmm. Good. 'Cause you _look_ good enough to eat."

He almost laughs at himself, at the line, but he's _Tony-fucking-Stark,_ and he pulls it off. And Steve is trembling in his hands anyways so he doesn't hesitate. He slides his fingers a little further in to the waist so it's not in his way, without removing the pretty little piece. Steve's cock contests the panties for the deeper shade of flushed, but Tony doesn't take too long to admire the contrast before he wraps his mouth around it and swallows.

"W-what I wouldn't give... to have my camera right now..." Steve gasps, hands returning to card through Tony's hair affectionately as his nose gently touches his abdomen. Tony snorts and sets a brutal pace so Steve can barely even think about the camera any more. As much fun as they have, Tony's not sure he wants Steve to have even more power over him than he already has.

There's a dull ache in Tony's jaw by the time Steve cums. His hips stutter and Tony hollows out his cheeks to accommodate Steve's movement as he can't help but thrust up into that delicious heat. He swallows what he catches, but Steve is also careful to pull away so he doesn't cause Tony any discomfort. The exchange is a spattering of cum that hits both his cheek and Steve's stomach, but the blond is quick to use the bed sheet to wipe it away.

The kissing starts again almost immediately, without a second thought. Steve's movements are sluggish in a post-orgasm haze, but he's determined to get Tony off before he inevitably passes out. They move together and Steve tries to deviate attention from himself, but Tony is insistent. As though its a challenge, he does anything in his power to make Steve cum a second time– before he does– knowing that Steve has at least one more in him but if he finishes he'll be down for the count. So they rut against each other, at some point the underwear is removed and lost in a tangle of bedsheets, and the experience culminates in an almost-simultaneous orgasm that leaves both of them boneless and wrapped up in the other.

o O o

It's dark when Tony wakes up. He finds Steve's arm slung around him and holding him close, and he's tempted to go back to sleep but his bladder protests. He carefully disentangles himself and heads to the washroom.

When he comes back he notices Steve's camera bag on the table by the door, left next to the brown paper bag that contained the lunch they never ate. Noticing that Steve had migrated over to his side of the bed and begun clinging to his pillow in his brief absence, he hatched a devious plan and decided to go for it.

It really was a primitive little box, he noted as he pulled several pieces from the bag, and honestly seemed needlessly complicated for the kind of technology it utilized. He attached the flash, fixed on a random lens from the bag, and hoped that there was still film inside because he wasn't sure he could manage changing that without supervision from someone who knew what the hell they were doing with it, at least the first time. He didn't want to _break_ Steve's camera, he wanted to _use_ it.

After it appeared to be assembled he brought it to the edge of the bed and took several snaps. They were by no means as nice as the photos taken by Steve's practised hand, but Tony kept each little square the device spat out.

o O o

When Steve woke up Tony had gotten back in to bed and curled around his back. It was still dark but there was definite noise coming from the open window across the room, suggesting that the city was waking up so it must be early in the AM. He couldn't believe that he had slept so long, or that Tony had been able to stay through the whole night. He would probably be in trouble later.

As he sat up Tony rolled away but slept on undisturbed. For some reason he was on Tony's side of the bed, but that was the least of his confusion. His camera sat on Tony's bedside table and behind them were at least two dozen different angles of Steve taped up to the wall in a collage that mirrored Steve's on his side. Steve snuggled in to the pillow, a shot that highlighted his abdomen (made visible by the hand that held up the bed sheets just high enough), and a selfie of Tony making a face with Steve snoozing in the background unaware. He couldn't help the smile that plastered itself on his face and the warm feeling that fluttered in his stomach.

He made a brief mental note. Steve would have to buy Tony his own Polaroid camera. He could really use some practise.


End file.
